Study Break
by StrongatHeart
Summary: Dylan tries to liven up his and Marco's study session.
1. Study Break

**Title: Study Break**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Degrassi. :( **

**Summary: Dylan decides that he and Marco need a break from studying.**

My eyes darted from my laptop screen, where that little annoying blinking thing on the page seemed to be mocking me relentlessly, over to Marco, who was sitting at the other end of the couch pouring over some textbook.

I returned my gaze to the screen.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Stupid little blinky black line thing. It knew perfectly well that I could not, for the life of me, conjure up the words I need to complete the stupid essay I was supposed to be writing. Or even start it. The blinky black line thing hovered at the 'K' at the end of my name, which was all I'd typed so far.

Blink. Blink.

And now the rest of the blank page was laughing at me, too.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

"Gargh," I growled, pushing the laptop away from me. Marco looked up in surprise.

"You okay, Dyl?"

I rubbed my eyes wearily. "Fine."

Marco returned to his book, and I sighed. Then my face brightened as I was graced with an idea. I scooted myself over to where Marco was sitting and peered over his shoulder at his book.

"So, what'cha reading?" I asked, skimming over the first few lines.

"The most boring book in history. About history," he groaned, not taking his eyes off the page.

"Ah," I said, leaning in a bit closer. Mmm. He sure smelled good.

After a few moments of me not moving, he looked up.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Nope. No problem," I beamed. I still didn't go back to my side of the couch. His side was definitely more preferable. My side…well, didn't have him on it.

"Do you…need something?" Marco asked, obviously disconcerted by my odd behavior.

"Actually, now that you mention it…" I said, taking his book from his grasp and setting it aside.

"Hey, you just lost my page!" he protested.

"Forget about studying," I said, sliding even closer and whispering into his ear. "Let's have some fun."

"Fun? No, I don't have time for fun," he said, pulling away and picking his book back up. He began to sift through the pages back to where he had been reading.

"There's always time for fun," I said, placing my larger hand over his to stop him from turning the pages. "Come on, Del Rossi."

"Dylan, I have a test to study for. I can't fail it," he said desperately.

"Oh, like you've ever failed anything in your life," I rolled my eyes. "You'll ace it. You know you will."

He pulled his hand out from under mine, and continued to flip through the book. "Not if I don't study," he replied.

"Marco…" I sang teasingly. I began to nibble on his ear, and he gave a funny little shiver.

"Dylan, stop," he said irritably.

"Now, I _know_ you don't actually mean that."

"_Yes,_ as a matter of fact, I _do,"_ he said firmly, swatting me away.

I scowled, then shrugged. "Fine. Have it your way."

"_Thank you." _

I sighed and leaned back into the couch. "It sure is hot in here," I remarked nonchalantly. Marco raised an eyebrow, but didn't look up. I frowned, then, excruciatingly slowly, began to peel off my T-shirt. When Marco did not so much as glance up, I tossed the shirt on top of his book. Now, he glared up at me, irritated.

"It's not going to work, Dylan," he said, throwing the shirt back at me. "Will you leave me alone and let me study, please?"

I rolled my eyes, making a face at him.

"Oh, very mature," he said sarcastically.

"Thank you."

He went back to his stupid book, and I sat there, arms crossed, frowning at the blank TV screen in front of me. After an entire minute, I discreetly started to scoot back over to Marco. There was no way he couldn't notice, but he was deliberately ignoring me now. That was, until, I started to slowly massage the inside of his thigh.

He sighed, closing his eyes in what I'd like to believe was pleasure or lust, but was probably more like impatience. "Dylan. Cut it out." Yep, it was impatience.

"Cut what out?" I asked innocently.

"You know what."

"Mmm, no," I shook my head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Move your hand," he said hotly.

I shrugged. "If you wish, love." My hand went higher to stroke him through his pants instead, and his eyes jerked open.

"I didn't mean― will you stop!"

"Your mouth says stop. Your body, on the other hand…" I grinned.

He shoved my hand away. "Dylan, I mean it. I need to study," he said insistently.

"Do it later," I whined. "Come on, you know you can't resist this face." I batted my eyelashes, flashing him my most charming smile.

"Uh, yes. Actually I can," he said resolutely.

"Well, you can't resist this, then." My tongue traced around his ear before my teeth gently bit down on it.

He swallowed hard. "Can too."

I happily began planting a trail of tiny kisses down his jaw, then his neck, stopping to suck on the sensitive spot I knew drove him crazy.

"_Dylan!" _

"See? You so love it," I said smugly.

He pushed me off him, but I couldn't help but notice how his breath hitched when he spoke. "No, I meant _'Dylan!' _as in _get off!" _

"My pleasure."

"Leave me alone!" he shrieked.

"Oh, _that _get off."

"Dylan!"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

I pretended to be hurt. "Aw, that hurt my feelings. I think I need a kiss to make it better."

"Will _that _shut you up?" Marco demanded.

I beamed. "Yep."

"Fine." He leaned over to kiss me chastely on the lips. He started to pull back again, but taking him by surprise, I pulled him down on top of me and fell back against the cushions.

"Just can't control yourself around me, can you, you animal?" I joked, grinning. He tried to push himself up, but I held on tight.

"Let me up," he ordered after realizing that he was getting nowhere fast.

"Hmm, let me think about that…"

"Dylan!"

"No," I said simply, fighting the urge to laugh at his infuriation with me.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" he asked, struggling against my grip. Being stronger than him definitely had its benefits.

"I would have thought the meaning was obvious, Mr. Valedictorian."

He moaned. "Dylan, I've got to study."

"So do I," I shrugged. "The _Anatomy of Marco Del Rossi. _My favorite class," I said matter-of-factly.

The corners of his lips twitched. "Well, you'd definitely get an A in that class," he muttered.

My smirk widened. "Come on, you know you want to…" I whispered seductively.

He rolled his eyes. "I can't, okay?"

"Look, you've already spent a good ten minutes arguing with me. The faster you give in, the faster you can get back to studying," I pointed out.

"And what makes you think I'm going to give in?" he asked indignantly.

"Please," I said. One of the arms I had wrapped around his back slid lower, and I gave his butt a playful squeeze. "You don't stand a chance."

"Dylan…" he began again, but I wouldn't allow it. I awkwardly managed to roll us over on the narrow couch cushions so that he was pinned beneath my weight. He definitely wasn't going anywhere now.

He squirmed, trying halfheartedly to push me off again. I wouldn't have any of that, either. I easily pinned his arms above his head, much to his obvious displeasure, then returned to my previous ministrations on his neck.

"Get― off― me," he grunted, but he was arching his neck into the pleasure my lips and tongue were providing. Ha. I knew he loved it.

"No thanks." My free hand was under his shirt now, and my lips were covering his, preventing them from uttering even another word of protest. I released his arms long enough to remove his shirt, then before he could react to having his hands free, I had restrained him again.

He gave a quickly muffled moan, and though he would undoubtedly say that it was a moan of misery or something, I knew better. I could feel him getting hard as I teased him, and knew that, whatever he said, he wanted this too. And he thought he could fool me. Yeah right. The evidence of his desire spoke for itself.

"Let's get these off, shall we?" I tugged at the waistband of his jeans, and he simply glared up at me, and didn't say anything. I knew perfectly well what was with the sudden silence, too. He was enjoying this far too much to protest anymore.

I slid his jeans off of him with an effortlessness that only came with experience, and threw them behind me where Marco's book had been discarded. Unnecessary impediments. As were Marco's boxers, which quickly joined that pile.

There. That was better.

I continued to toy with him, biting down on his shoulder, running my tongue across his nipples and plunging it inside his belly button. No way would he consider stopping now. All the while I slowly made my way further down to my destination. He was biting his lip, determined not to let me know how much he was enjoying himself.

Finally, I reached my goal, and ran my tongue down his length, just to drive him wild. He faltered in his efforts not to react, however, and gave a kind of strangled whimper of sorts. Deciding to see what kind of reaction I got, I made to take him fully into my mouth, but he stopped me.

"Don't," he muttered. I looked up. No way. He was actually stopping me _now? _

"What?" was pretty much all my befuddled brain could come up with.

"I said don't," he repeated.

"Marco―"

"I mean don't, I― just― take off the clothes, Michalchuk," he ordered, and I finally understood. I did as I was told, and fifteen seconds later, I was proudly baring it all.

"Wait― condoms," he said. Count on Marco to be sensible, even in lustful, heat-of-the-moment affairs like this one. Well, I guess one of us had to be.

"In my wallet―" I scrambled for my dismissed jeans, and retrieved my wallet from the back pocket. Sure enough, I found what I was looking for.

Marco had gone back to his previous task of not reacting to my touch. Nonetheless, the tiniest of gasps could be heard when I carefully inserted a finger in him, then again when I slid in the second one. By the third, he had finally managed to get his reactions under control, and barely even blinked.

Deciding that he was good and stretched enough, I pulled my fingers out and tore open the condom with my teeth. I slipped it on, and positioned myself above him. There was no way he couldn't react to this.

Sure enough, he squirmed a bit on the couch, and a small grunt could be heard beneath our ragged breathing. I waited a few moments for him to get used to me, then pulled almost all the way out of him, only to slam back in again. Marco had found my hand and was squeezing it tightly, the only evidence that I was affecting him at all. The only evidence, that is, except for his throbbing erection, which I took in my free hand, matching the rhythm with my thrusts.

Marco's head was back, his eyes were closed, and I thought that I had never seen anything more beautiful than him in that moment, lost in the extraordinary sensations. It was a unique side of Marco that only I ever got to see. I got to watch him completely lose himself in the moment. In the feeling and passion we created. Of course, I'd never admit to thinking like this. The whole mushy, romantic crap isn't really my thing. But I could always appreciate him like this, just to myself. No one ever had to know that my thought process sometimes mirrored a romantic novel.

I was nearing my edge now, and judging by the increased pressure on the hand Marco was grasping, so was he. I gave a last, final thrust, and came, spilling into the heat of my boyfriend. Marco followed shortly after. I pulled out of him fell on top of him, being careful not to squish him. As our breathing finally started to return to normal, I turned slightly to face him.

"I've got to admit, you've got some self-control, Del Rossi," I commended him.

"Thanks. But I'm still mad at you," he scowled.

"What?" I said in disbelief. "After all that? Are you kidding me? You _are_ kidding me, right?"

He smirked, relenting. "Guilty as charged."

I rolled my eyes. "Jerk. Don't you have a test to study for or something?"

"Yes. The _Anatomy of Dylan Michalchuk," _he replied.

I laughed. "Ten minutes ago, that history test was your life," I pointed out.

"Ten minutes ago, you weren't lying on top of me naked." Then again, he made a valid point, too.

"Yeah, and you know, I think I could use another lesson in my Marco class," I joked. "Make sure I'm ready for my final exam and everything. School is very important, after all."

"Maybe we need to pull an all-nighter, then?" he suggested.

"Really? I mean, you're seriously ditching your homework?" I arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

He shrugged. "Well, unlike the crap they're shoving down our throats at university, I figure The _Anatomy of Dylan _is a class I'll actually use in my day-to-day life."

I grinned, leaning down to kiss him lightly. "And it will never get boring," I winked.

I got up and pulled Marco to his feet, and we raced upstairs. My laptop was left running, our clothes were strewn all over, and Marco's book had fallen open to some random page and lay on the floor. It was pretty much a wreck, but we were in far too much of a hurry to bother to clean up after ourselves. No one would be home for hours, anyway. We had the entire evening to ourselves. Too bad real schoolwork wasn't this much fun.

* * *

**Review, please :D**


	2. Revenge

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Degrassi. **

**A/N: So, I decided to make this a two-shot. This is Marco's revenge, a night later. It kinda backfires on him in the end. **

I dully stirred my ice-cold drink with my straw, watching the amber colored liquid swirl around and around like a miniature cyclone.

"Hey, you okay?" Dylan muttered. I didn't even look up.

"Fine," I lied. Actually, I was bored to tears, but I didn't really want to tell him that. Dylan had been so excited all week about the double date he'd arranged with his hockey buddy and his girlfriend. I had been looking forward to it too, as a matter of fact. That was, until, I had actually met them.

Dylan's friend Teddy had to be the biggest hockey fanatic out there. And I live with Dylan. Teddy had spent the entire twenty-minute wait for our food discussing hockey stats with Dylan, then half the meal debating favored teams and players. Forty-five minutes later, even my hockey-loving boyfriend seemed to be tiring of the subject.

Meanwhile, I had been attempting to strike up a conversation with Teddy's girlfriend, Leanne. Bad mistake. She had just been sitting there all quiet, and then I had to go and open my big mouth and try to talk to her, and ended up unleashing the monster within. I quickly figured out that conversations with Leanne were mostly one-sided. Between her gossiping about people I didn't even know, whining about work and university, and even more gossiping, it was hard to get a word in edgewise. Leanne made Paige look like a shy, quiet girl. I could only nod and try desperately to look interested, while ordering more and more alcohol to choke down. Luckily for me, Dylan had agreed to be the designated driver tonight. An agreement, I was certain, he was starting to regret.

Currently, Teddy and Leanne had excused themselves to go to the restroom, and Dylan and I were left alone, waiting for our desserts to arrive.

"Look, I'm sorry about this," Dylan apologized. "I didn't think they'd be this―"

"Annoying?" I offered.

Dylan cringed visibly. "Yeah. I've never met Leanne before…I had no idea she was so, well, irritating."

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I'm almost drunk enough that this entire dinner will actually seem fun."

Dylan chuckled quietly. "Exactly how many drinks have you had, anyway?"

I shrugged again. I had lost count half an hour ago. "Enough."

Dylan groaned. "Wish I could drink. Teddy won't shut up about how the Maple Leafs are _'so overrated.'_ I wish I had a hockey stick just to hit myself over the head with it."

"Maybe we could ditch them before they come back," I suggested, only half-joking.

"I wish."

"Oh no," I moaned, sitting up straight, my heart filling with dread. "Oh no, they're coming back…"

Leanne slid into the booth first, followed by Teddy. "So, as I was saying, Marco…Justin and Melissa had been going out for like a month, and―"

I quickly fell back into my previous stupor as my thoughts began to drift. To school, to the pile of homework waiting for me at home that I had meant to do yesterday…

Suddenly, my face broke out into a wide grin at the remembrance of the distraction that had prevented me from completing it. Also known as the sexy blonde sitting next to me.

Dylan, being his usual exasperating self, had somehow tricked me into disregarding my homework in favor of having sex with him. I don't care how much I actually wanted it, I'm going with the excuse that he had tricked me into it. He had started off nibbling my ear, massaging inside my leg, little irritating things like that. Then somehow I ended up pinned beneath him while he played with me, teasing my nipples, nipping at my skin. Next thing I knew, we were having sex, and I was desperately drawing on every ounce of self control I had not to let him know how much I was enjoying it. He wasn't supposed to know that I wanted him right then as much as he wanted me. I had been tricked into the whole thing, after all.

In present time, Leanne seemed to have taken my grin as a sign of interest, and was eagerly plowing on. Meanwhile, my mind was racing. I had a plan. An evil plan of revenge on my boyfriend. As far as I was concerned, it was his fault that I was stuck here with his extremely annoying friends when I had two tons of homework I still had to do. Actually, it was his fault I still had the homework, too.

Smirking, glowing with pride at my evil plot, I let my hand drop lightly onto Dylan's knee under the table. He didn't react, not that I had really expected him to. It was only my hand on his knee.

"But then Ryan cheated on Trisha with Paulina, and…" Leanne still hadn't shut up.

I found Dylan's foot under the table, and brushed up against it, before wrapping mine around his. A tiny, barely existent smile tugged at his lips. I frowned. This was supposed to drive him crazy, not make him smile. Let's see how he reacted to this…

His face gave a little twitch― hardly noticeable― as my hand crawled painstakingly slowly, up and to the inside of his thigh. This was going to be so much fun.

The further my hand slid upward, the more uncomfortable he grew. He was still trying to pay attention to Teddy's hero worshipping of Wayne Gretzky, but I could tell just how much I was affecting him. I stopped at the very top of his thigh, knowing perfectly well that it would drive him insane. Then I slowly started to rub the inside of his leg, the same way he had done to me when I had been attempting to concentrate on my school work yesterday.

My smirk returning (which was probably making me look somewhat mad by now), I slipped my hand up further to my goal. Now Dylan was squirming noticeably. Teddy stopped rambling long enough to take a quick gulp of his drink, and Dylan seized the opportunity to shoot me a _"what-the-hell?"_ look.

I merely flashed him an innocent smile, and he, now looking rather nervous, turned his attention back to Teddy.

Suddenly, I felt fingers close around my wrist, and Dylan dropped my hand back over on my own lap. Scowling, I reached over and placed it back on his thigh. He batted it away again. So I snuck it back over. This happened at least three more times. By this point, both Teddy and Leanne saw us squirming around on our side of the booth, and were looking rather bewildered by our odd behavior.

"You two okay over there?" Teddy asked.

"Fine," Dylan squeaked as my hand found a sensitive part of him and gave a gentle squeeze.

It took Teddy and Leanne all of two seconds to dive back into their mind-numbingly boring halves of the conversation.

With no choice but to endure my teasing now or risk drawing attention to ourselves, Dylan looked nothing short of miserable as I began to stroke him through his jeans. He fidgeted with his fork, tapping it against his plate and twirling it between his fingers. He was obviously trying to keep his composure, but his breath was growing uneven beyond his control. And that wasn't the only thing that was beyond his power. He was currently sporting a painful looking erection against his jeans. Deciding to take my torture a step further, I subtly reached up to unbutton said jeans. His face visibly blanched. Now struggling to keep a straight face myself, I slipped my hand inside.

Dylan was still conversing with Teddy. "Well, I never really looked at it that WAY!" he exclaimed suddenly, his voice jumping an octave on the last word. Both Teddy and Leanne shot him weird looks.

"Um, uh―" he stammered, flustered. His face turning from white to red, he hastily took a drink. Leanne immediately went back to telling me about another screwed up relationship of one of her friends, and Teddy launched into the "classic" story of his first hockey game. Both of them were completely oblivious to the fact that neither one of us were paying them the slightest bit of attention anymore.

Dylan bit down hard on his lip as I continued to rub him. Inwardly, I wondered how much he could take.

"So, you guys want to come to the game with us next weekend?" Teddy proposed. Leanne had finally quit talking and was looking at us enthusiastically.

"Oh, yeah," Dylan agreed. "Yeah, I'd love to come― um, _we'd _love to come," he rectified through clenched teeth.

"Great," Teddy beamed. "You have no idea how hard it was to get tickets."

Dylan grimaced. "Hard. Yeah. Bummer."

"I'm lucky I could even get off work to go," Teddy continued.

"Get off. Work. Right." moaned Dylan.

"Dude, you okay?" Teddy asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Um…actually, I think I've got to go to the bathroom," decided Dylan. I suddenly felt his foot press down on mine under the table. Immediately understanding, I slid my hand from his pants, and he quickly buttoned them back up.

"O-kay," said Teddy, giving him an awkward smile.

"Oh, um, you know, I think I've got to go too," I said.

"Hurry up, though. Our desserts will probably be here any second," said Leanne, smiling at us cluelessly.

Miraculously, Dylan managed to slide from the booth without either Teddy or Leanne noticing his impressive boner straining against his jeans, and hurriedly made for the restroom, with me in tow.

"God, what the hell was that about, Marco?" Dylan demanded as we slipped into the bathroom.

"What was what about, Dylan?" I asked, smirking.

"_This!" _he said, gesturing down at the front of his pants.

I shrugged casually. "Payback."

"Payback?" he shrieked. "Payback for _what?" _

"For setting up this dinner in the first place," I replied matter-of-factly. "And for yesterday," I added as an afterthought.

He shook his head. "Are you crazy? I was about to lose it out there. They could have seen―" he stopped mid-sentence when he realized that I was laughing. "And _what_ is so funny, pray tell?" he demanded.

I snorted. "Sorry, Dyl. You just should have seen your face out there. Priceless."

He glared at me. "Well, I'm glad I amuse you so much."

I fought my laughter under control, and leaned nonchalantly against the bathroom wall, still smirking. "Hey, they're _your _friends. It's only right that you provide the entertainment."

He sighed, running his hands through his blonde curls. "Well, God knows somebody had to do something entertaining before we both died of boredom."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not kidding. But we're almost out. We'll get dessert, pay the bill, and then we won't stop running til we hit Mexico. Are you ready to go back out yet?"

"Do I look ready?" he snapped. "This is all your fault, you know."

"What, exactly, is my fault? If you're talking about the dinner, you're the one who set that up. The erection, however, I take full credit for," I smirked.

"Well, you've got to help me get rid of it, then," said Dylan, causing my eyebrows to shoot halfway up my forehead.

"_Excuse me?"_ I demanded.

"Yeah," he insisted. "I can't go out there like this, and this isn't going away, so…"

I shook my head firmly. "I am not doing anything in the bathroom of a restaurant, Dylan. Do it yourself."

"Hey, you got me into this― situation," he said. "It's your responsibility to get me out of it."

"I'm not doing it," I said resolutely.

"Well, what am I supposed to do, then?"

"I told you. Do it yourself."

"Marco, you've got to help me get rid of it. This is _your _fault," he whined. "Come on, haven't you ever wanted to mess around in a bathroom?"

"_No!" _I said in disbelief. "What, have you?"

Dylan merely smirked.

"Dylan, I _can't," _I rolled my eyes. "In a bed, yeah. On the floor…even the back of your _car_ is better than― _this." _

"After everything you put me through out there in the middle of a crowded restaurant, you don't want to do anything in a bathroom?" Dylan said incredulously. It was growing difficult to argue with his pleading cerulean eyes. Not to mention the idea of messing around in a bathroom was slightly― I repeat― _slightly ― _alluring, in a twisted sort of way. Not that I'd ever admit it. And just because I found the idea a bit thrilling didn't mean that I would actually go through with it.

"Please?" he begged. "Just help me get rid of it. Come on, I need you. It's either that, or you go out there alone with Teddy and Leanne," he pointed out.

For a moment, I hesitated, weighing my options carefully. Then I strode forward and pushed Dylan forcefully up against the wall opposite me. I looked him up and down, considering him thoughtfully. A grin was slowly starting to form on his face.

"Come on." I began tugging him into one of the stalls, and without a moment's hesitancy, he followed, closing and locking the door behind us.

I had his jeans undone and slung around his ankles in no time. Might as well get this over with. I slid my hand inside his boxers and my hand closed around him. He moaned, throwing his head back against the stall wall with a loud thunk.

"Shh. You've got to be quiet, or deal's off," I reprimanded him. He nodded agreeably.

"Wait, I don't want to do it like this," he said suddenly, knocking my hand away.

"What do you mean?"

His evil smirk had returned. "Well, it's only fair that you get some, too. I've got condoms―"

"No," I said firmly, my reluctance to this whole idea reestablishing itself. "I said I'd help you get rid of it, Dylan. Nothing else."

"We're all alone," he pointed out, his eyes pleading with mine.

"For now. What if someone comes in?"

Dylan shrugged. "Either we'll have to be extremely quiet, or they'll get a lot more than they bargained for coming in here."

I shook my head. "No way. Hell will become the North Pole before I do that in here."

"But we're already doing _this," _again, Dylan gestured to his lower half. "What's the big deal if you're naked, too?"

"_Because,"_ I hissed. "I'm me. I don't do_― this―_ in bathrooms."

"There's a first time for everything," Dylan whined.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Come on…"

"_No!" _

"Fine," Dylan said haughtily. "But Teddy wants to do this doubling thing again next week. I told him we were busy, but I think our schedule might have just opened up…"

My jaw dropped open, and I glared at him. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

I continued to give him the filthiest look I could muster. Colossal, irritatingly lovable pain in the ass. And I don't necessarily mean that in a good way. "You suck, Michalchuk."

He straightened my shirt collar affectionately, grinning. "Only if you want me to, Del Rossi."

* * *

I let out a low hiss through my teeth with the sound of steam being released as Dylan slowly entered me. My fingers scrambled instinctively for something to hold onto, but found nothing but the smooth stall wall. Unlike at home, there were no sheets or pillows to squeeze. So instead, I reached back for Dylan's hand, which was resting on my hip, and crushed it. Served him right.

My forehead was pressed against the cool wall, as was the rest of my body. Dylan was behind me, his face buried in my shoulder. Once again, I found that I was enjoying myself against my will as my boyfriend slammed into me, expertly hitting that sweet spot inside of me. He reached in front of me and grabbed my aching erection, and I quickly muffled a whimper. At the moment, I didn't even care that he had somehow managed to trick me into sex again. Sneaky bastard.

Both our bodies were slicked with sweat, our shirts were sticking to our backs, the heat almost too intense for us to be enclosed in the tiny bathroom stall; it was somewhat smothering. I could hear and feel Dylan's ragged breathing in my ear, then the moist warmth of his tongue on my neck, every muscle flush up against mine. We were both clothed from the waist up, something I found rather disappointing; I'd much rather feel Dylan's naked skin against mine as he pounded into me. But I would take what I could get. My boyfriend's breath was becoming more and more uneven, until finally he gave a throaty gasp as he reached his climax. I wasn't far behind, and came all over his hand. We were both panting for breath, with me leaning heavily on the wall for support and Dylan leaning on me.

"Happy now?" I growled breathlessly, as though I hadn't enjoyed every second of it.

"As a clam," he replied, releasing me from against the wall. I turned around, running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair.

"I can't believe we did that," I said, leaning my head back against the stall wall.

"You got to admit though, it _was_ fun," said Dylan, grinning.

I didn't answer. I had just heard the door to the bathroom open. "Shh. Be quiet," I whispered.

"Why―" Dylan began.

"Shh!"

"Dylan? Marco?" My already violently beating heart slammed even harder against my ribs. Oh shit. It was Teddy, most likely wondering what the hell had happened to us.

"Hello? Are you guys in here? You've been gone for ten minutes. Your ice cream's starting to melt."

"What do we do?" I muttered. Dylan shrugged helplessly.

"Dylan? Marco?"

I could hear Teddy's footsteps approaching. Oh, this was so not good.

"I cannot believe you talked me into this," I spat at Dylan. He bit his lip, looking as though he sincerely regretted that now.

Teddy stopped right outside our stall. I was positive he could see both pairs of feet under the door.

"Okay, here's the plan," Dylan whispered urgently. "You slip under the wall into the next stall, and I'll―"

"Dylan? Marco? Anyone in there?"

"Just a second," Dylan and I both said. My eyes widened. Oops.

"What are you doing?" Dylan hissed.

"Sorry," I mouthed back.

"Guys? Are you all right?"

I hurriedly began to tug my pants back on, as Dylan did the same. There was hardly enough room for both of us in the tiny stall, and we nearly fell into each other at least twice.

Dylan tentatively opened the stall door, timidly poking his head out. "Uh, hey, Ted," he said awkwardly.

"What's going on? Is Marco in there?" Teddy asked.

"Here," I squeaked, peering over Dylan's shoulder. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across from us. My hair was tousled, every inch of skin glistened with sweat, and a crimson blush now stained my cheeks. It would take a miracle for Teddy not to figure out what we'd been doing.

"What are you― oh," Ted's eyes widened in realization, his face going nearly as red as mine. "Oh, uh― I'll just― go…" I grimaced as Ted quickly bolted from the bathroom.

"Great," I groaned, following Dylan out of the stall. "This is just perfect."

Dylan looked nothing short of mortified himself. "Well, on the bright side, I doubt they ask us to double again."

"This is all your fault, you know," I accused, glaring at my boyfriend. "I knew this was a bad idea."

Dylan scoffed. "Excuse me, you were the one torturing _me_ out there. This would never have happened if you would've kept your hand out of my pants."

"Well, you were the one who set up this stupid dinner in the first place," I argued.

"Yeah, but you agreed to the whole sex in the bathroom thing," Dylan shot back, as if it hadn't been all his idea to start with.

"Only after you threatened to set up another date with Teddy and Loraine!"

"Leanne."

"Whatever!" I snapped irritably.

"I wasn't _actually_ going to do it," Dylan said in exasperation, as though I should have known this all along. "I wasn't about to put myself through another dinner with them. It was an empty threat," he explained.

"Well, you might have bothered to tell me that! Now your friends probably think we're some kind of horny animals who can't control themselves."

Dylan considered this. "Well…"

I gave him a look, and he sighed. "I'm sorry, okay? I really, _really _didn't mean for any of this to happen. Believe me."

I stared at our disheveled reflections in the cracked bathroom mirror. "Why do we always have the worst luck in the world?" I groaned.

He chuckled. "I don't know. Although…"

"Although what?" I asked, unable to think of a single thing that could make this any less humiliating.

Dylan gave a lopsided grin. "You've got to admit it livened up the evening."


End file.
